We master the art of accidentally meeting. Today it is in the park around the corner from your office. It is windy and I keep one hand on my skirt–not sure yet if I want you to know how even when I was getting dressed that I thought about fucking you.
There is almost no one around us, but still you start the charade. “How strange to see you here,” you say, loudly. Then almost in a whisper, “I’m hard already.”
“I needed the fresh air,” I reply, letting go of my skirt, wanting the wind to lift it enough to show you what I’m not wearing.
We walk along the cement path, talking about nothing. Making sure to mention our spouses, our kids. It’s almost as if speaking about them proves what is happening between us has nothing to do with them.
Your hand moves to my back and moves me from the path toward an enormous willow tree with branches that touch the ground.
We slip between the branches and the trunk, hiding from the few joggers and strollers in the park. “I can’t stop thinking about your cock,” I say.
You move your hand up my skirt. The wetness that has been with me since this morning has spread from my pussy to my thighs. The same moment your thumb pushes against my clit, our mouths meet.
Kissing you is everything. The roughness of your beard thrills me. You taste like coffee and sugar. I press into your hand–glad I left my panties at home.
You slide a finger inside of me and I gasp. I move my hand to your jeans and slide my hand inside. “I like it rough,” I say.
You inhale and and then push me to my knees. Your cock is out and my lips on are it. At first just teasing–licking the shaft and lightly sucking on the tip. But then your hand is on the back of my head and you’ve shoved your cock down my throat. It’s so long. I adjust myself around you, working to keep you deep and then you find a rhthym, pushing into my mouth as I suck.
My pussy is throbbing. My knees ache from being on the rough ground around the tree. I move my free hand to my pussy and touch myself while looking up at you.
It hurts and my eyes tear up. You pull out of my mouth and slap my face with your cock. I stifle a scream, knowing we can’t draw attention to ourselves.
I move my hand, wet with my own juices to your cock. My red nails are bright in the dimness of the tree. “I painted them for you,” I say. “I want you to think about my hand on your cock and my hand on my clit. When I can’t see you, I touch myself two or three times a day, wanting it to be your hand, your mouth, your cock.”
You stiffen and them pull me up, turning me so that my back is again the tree and your hands are inside of my shirt, pushing aside my bra and squeezing my nipples. The tip of your cock touches my pussy and it is like being shocked.
“Fuck me,” I beg.
You pull the neck of my shirt down until my breasts are exposed and then you move you mouth to them–biting and licking my hard nipples. “You are bad,” you say. “You are a fucking slut.”
My pussy tightens. I need your cock inside of me. You rub your beard against my tits, pushing your face between them. I slide my hand down the back of your pants and squeeze your ass, pushing it toward me as I draw my nails lightly across your balls.
We can’t leave any marks on each other. I want you to slap my face, bite my neck hard enough to leave a bruise, but I settle for the hard pinch you give my nipples, before moving your hand down to your cock.
In a moment you are inside of me and the world around my head explodes. I’ve been holding my breath and I keep holding it as your cock pushes deeper into me. I feel you balls against my ass. I wish we had time for more fucking, for you to shove it in my ass.
You lift me up against the tree and I wrap my legs around your waist. My pussy tightens around your cock with each thrust. I want it to go on forever, but we can’t get away with this much longer. Someone will come too close to the tree.
With the fourth or fifth thrust, I start to come. I bury my head in your neck and let out a silent scream. “Fuck me harder,” I whisper.
When you cum, I almost start crying with relief. There’s so much of it and it coats the insides of my thighs. I use my hand to smear it around, massage it into my skin as if it were lotion.
We adjust our clothing and you leave before I do. When I finally come out from under the trees branches, I see that the wind has died down. I sit on a bench and look at the sky feeling satisfied for the first time in a year. I start to make a list of all the other places we can fuck.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/55obte/out_in_the_open_consummating_our_affair_in_the